


Visceral

by 8bitAgent



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Feb FB fanfiction challenge, Fluff, Gramander, M/M, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmates, fight me they're cute af, graves vocal chords are messed up, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9979205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8bitAgent/pseuds/8bitAgent
Summary: Percival never imagined he'd meet his soulmate but then again he never thought he'd be abducted by Grindelwald and held captive at his mercy for months. Then he see's them, blue eyes in the dark of his cell and with them a man more beautiful than he'd thought possible, with gangly limbs and sharp cheek bones, he thought it might have been love at first sight if not for the possability that the reason his heart was beating so fast could be due to the prospect of freedom.-Alternatively: They were connected in the most visceral way. From the moment blue met grey and shaking fingertips stroked rosy cheeks.Percival knew it was him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> They were connected in the most visceral way. From the moment blue met grey and shaking fingertips stroked rosy cheeks.
> 
> Percival knew it was him.

They were connected in the most visceral way. From the moment blue met grey and shaking calloused fingertips stroked rosy cheeks. 

∆

Graves' face had been caked in dirt, body battered and bruised, and his mind broken. Yet in the dim light of the dungeon he'd been trapped in he could clearly make out the eyes of another, could hear the shouting and tell-tale signs of his squadron fighting their way towards him, saving him from them hell hole Grindelwald had trapped him in.

"Hello, Mr. Graves, I'm Newt Scamander and I'm sorry if this is rude of me but my first priority is getting you to safety." Newt crouched down next to him, hands feeling over his arms, checked his pulse, and with a flick of his wand he healed the minor scrapes and bruises that littered his body.

"Do you think you're well enough to apparate?"

Graves gave a weak nod, head heavier than a lead weight placed upon his malnourished body.

Newt clicked his tongue, eyes alit with something akin to what Graves could only describe as unbridled anger. Long fingers wrapped around his arm and lifted him up, he leaned heavily upon newt unable to hold himself up.

"The barriers that Grindelwald had up have been dismantled. Tina is leading a team against him as we speak, hopefully she's captured him already," Newt said.

In the distance they could hear a woman screaming, "remain where you are! If you move I won't hesitate!" 

Newt shook his head, biting at the inside of his cheek.

"My apologies Mr. Graves, let's go." Newt took a step forward then everything blurred, tunneling their vision on one point ahead of them. They stopped only a few short times, they faced a green valley, then an old dilapidated town overgrown with greenery, then- Graves sucked in a sharp breath- home.

His throat burned as he opened his mouth willing words to spill forth but all that came out was hot air.

Newt looked to him, feet halting in their actions to listen more acutely.

"Do you not wish to- oh!" Newt looked away ashamedly.

"I didn't think, would you like to stay with me for now? Or I can take you to Madame Picquery?"

Graves lips pursed, hands gripping tight to Newt's jacket. He opened his mouth again, feeling his throat ache in protest as he tried once again to speak. 

At the sound of silence, panicked grey eyes sought out Newt's calm blue. Newt covered Graves’ hands with his own.

"I'll take you to see a mediwizard tomorrow, for now let's get you cleaned up and rested."

Behind his soothing voice Graves could hear his worry, could hear the slight crack in his tone he'd covered so well but not well enough to hide from the director of magical security, ex-director of magical security. He didn't know if Picquery would be willing to take him back. He wasn't ready to see her yet.

Graves sucked in a breath, lips quivering as he let go of Newt's jacket to press a palm flat to his chest instead.

"Me?" Newt asked almost hesitantly.

Graves gave a confirming nod.

Newt looked upon him, eyes scanning him almost like with a single glance he could read his mind, as if he could know Graves for more than what he was- a broken man.

“I can't say I live in the best of places as of right now, it's just a small apartment I've rented but I certainly hope it'll be up to your standards.” Newt was back again with his hands pulling Graves close as they apparated to his home this time.

When Graves blinked his eyes open again he was in a small living room with a fireplace and a bay window. Curtains were drawn closed over it, which he was thankful for.

Next to him, connected to the living room was a small kitchen, a coffee cup sat on the counter, a string from a tea bag hung over it's side.

Graves turned to Newt, eyes drooping and shoulders sagging.

Sympathy flashed across Newt's features and in a second he was guiding Graves towards the bedroom.

"I don't have much here, most is in my case but please have a look at the clothes while I draw you up a bath." Newt turned on his heels once Graves had been seated and threw open his closet.

"I suggest the sweatpants, they're the biggest I've got though-" Newt cast a glance over Graves' frame -"I think anything might fit you right now." 

When Newt left the room and the sound of running water came from down the hall, Graves dragged his hands down his face, grimacing as he looked down at them stained brown and black from months of uncleanliness and neglect. The dirt had cemented itself to him almost as if a second skin. He couldn't wait to scrub it off.

"Mr. Graves! The bath is ready," Newt said popping his head into the room.

Graves stood on wobbly legs, stumbling his way towards Newt.

It was at that time a soft pinging began to ring in the room.

Newt flushed, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked embarrassedly.

"Sorry, I'll answer that. I suppose you can get into the bath yourself." Newt gave a small wave dashing towards the phone.

Graves watched his back retreat. It was odd to be treated as something so fragile and yet as if nothing had happened at all. Newt seemed to be trying to balance him out and Graves didn't hate it. From Newt, the actions didn't seem forced, they didn't seem like he was uncertain.

Newt knew what he was doing, he genuinely cared, and Graves thought of blue eyes in the darkness- his heart convulsed. 

How could a man he had barely met cause such reactions in him? How could soft hands and blue eyes make him feel like Grindelwald was his fate if only so that he could meet this mysterious wizard- Newt Scamander.

Graves hobbled into the bathroom where steam curled upwards towards the ceiling from the heated bath and a soft towel was laid out. He looked down at his clothes, his dress shirt was torn and stained with the red of his blood and the dirt off the ground he'd been forced to kneel upon, his slacks were rolled up to his knees with holes across his hip and thigh, no shoes in sight, only holey socks; his big toe stuck out of it on his left side.

His clothes peeled from him like a second skin, leaving behind the patterns of the fabric etched into his skin like a brand.

As he lowered himself into the water he let out a short hiss, sucking his tongue against his teeth. It'd been so long since he'd had this luxury, the chance to relax. Graves wasn't sure if he could relax anymore, it'd been carved into his very core to be on edge since the second he'd been captured. 

He closed his eyes trying to focus on feeling safe but he couldn't. At the back of his mind there was a nagging presence, a voice that whispered, “run” at every chance it had.

Graves sank lower into the water till it rose just below his nose. His hands sought out his wrist, his right hand covering a small mark, an animal eye surrounded by feathers, a hippogriff eye, his soulmate mark. It was no bigger than a bottle cap.

Grindelwald had inflicted a nasty wound on him barely missing the mark. When it'd happened Graves had felt more panic at the thought of disfiguring his mark than the chance that a vital blood vein could have been hit. Now an ugly scar resided where the wound once was, a mere inch away from his mark. 

His hands retracted, moving to cover himself modestly as Newt appeared in the doorway. His cheeks were a light color, eyes looking anywhere but at Graves.

“Picquery just called me, she said to keep an eye on you. Apparently Tina has captured Grindelwald finally, it only took them a half hour after we left. But Picquery and the others have been looking into his journals and the things he did to you-” Newt choked on his words as he glanced over at Graves, -”he wrote them all down, I'm so sorry Mr. Graves but I can't leave you alone right now, Picquery’s orders.”

Graves stared at Newt, his mind's gears turning at speeds that it shouldn't be capable of for having just gotten rescued.

Newt was only taking care of him as per his orders said to do. It wasn't that Graves hadn't known that already but it still stung to be told that the first person he'd had normal interactions with after so long was only with him due to work. It shouldn't sting so much, he knew that, but a part of him told himself that it felt like so much note than that.

Thick eyebrows rose in question.

“They don't want you outside of protection until Grindelwald can be transferred to Azkaban, to a more guarded and charmed cell than the last.”

Graves looks back towards the water, eyes following the ripples that flowed out and away from from his body.

Newt shuffled around, turning his back towards Graves as he cleared his throat.

“I can just stay over here, if you start feeling light headed or-” Newt paused to think, -”nauseous or possibly tingly numb in your limbs, you have to get out immediately.” Newt looked over his shoulder. 

Graves caught the barest hint of pink before he turned away again. Then he heard it, the sound of Newt hands fidgeting, playing with- what was that? A cube. It had switches and buttons on each side and Newt's fingers nimbly prodded at them. 

Graves wanted to ask what it was, he'd never seen something like it before but he already knew that no words would be coming out of him. He could feel it. The pain more noticeable now that he was relaxing. It was a sharp stabbing sensation in the middle of his throat. He was surprised it hadn't been healed when Newt tried to heal him, but then again it probably hadn't originally been a small wound.

He tapped his fingers against the porcelain tub.

Newt's nervous fidgeting stopped and he pocketed the toy, turning to face Graves.

“What is it?” he asked, eyes not quite meeting but not necessarily focused on the ground either.

Graves tapped the tub again making Newt look up fully, then pointed to the pocket the toy had been deposited.

“My switch cube?” Newt asked pulling it out again, his fingers twitching to press at it.

When Graves nodded, Newt let out a small, “oh.”

“It helps me stay calm when I'm anxious,” he explained.

They shared a look, one of understanding. It was an unfortunate thing to have, anxiety of any degree.

Newt, having realised the silence was hanging between them, turned away again. He blew out a small puff of air as he heard the water slosh behind him.

∆

Graves curled up on the corner of the small couch, a throw blanket laid over him. He watched Newt move around in the small kitchen, filling two cups with steaming liquid.

He was an unanswered question to Graves. Where had he come from? Was he hired after Grindelwald took his place at Macusa? And most important, why did he seem so familiar?

Graves was certain he’d never met Newt before he’d saved him. But those eyes, they bore into his being, cutting away each of his layers and seeing...him.

“Here, it’s an herbal tea.” Newt pressed a cup into his hands, the smell cinnamon and raspberries wafted upwards in a swirl of steam.

Newt sat down next to him, folding his legs underneath him as he sipped at his drink.

Graves looked down into his tea. It wasn’t his favorite drink, he preferred coffee much more but at the moment the warmth was much appreciated.

He wanted to express his gratitude, to tell Newt “thank you”, the answer was simple. Use his magic. He’d thought about it a lot already, to call it forth, he’d been feeling it sing beneath his skin ever since he’d escaped captivity. But alongside it was a ridiculous fear, a fear that said he shouldn’t use it, that he shouldn’t.

Graves looked to Newt helplessly, hoping he’d understand.

Newt stared back, tilting his head in question before mouthing, “oh”.

“You’re quite welcome Mr. Graves…” Newt trailed off as he made another face that gave way to his thinking.

Newt never said anything, even as he continued on with his thinking face, sipping his drink methodically. 

Graves followed his example but was startled as the magizoologist stood up. Graves shoulders have a small jump, spilling the hot tea over him, he hissed at the pain.

Newt’s eyes widened in shock as he set his cup down and went in front of Graves and took his cup setting it aside.

“I’m so sorry, here, let’s get you cleaned up.” Newt took Graves by the hands and pulled him towards the kitchen, it was closer than the bathroom. Newt turned on the faucet and put Graves hands under the cool stream. He lightly rubbed his fingers over his skin, washing off the sticky hot liquid.

As Newt’s hands brushed over Graves’ soul mate mark, he bristled, trying to pull his hands back.

“What’s wrong? Doe it hurt that bad?” Newt asked concerned, turning Graves’ wrist over in his hands to look at the spot he’d just touched. 

Newt froze, breath leaving him as he stared at the mark, a red flush had started to work it’s way up his neck, to his ears and cheeks.

“Y-your mark!” Newt said, voice louder than he meant for it to be.

Graves pulled his hands back, covering his wrist with his other hand, eyes downcast towards the floor.

Newt could feel his heart hammering in his chest, pounding against his ribcage, making it hard for him to breath. That mark, it had to be. Newt pressed a hand to his own wrist, the opposite side of Graves. He wanted so badly to pull his jackets sleeve up and reveal it but he couldn’t. Not with how Graves was responding to him merely seeing his mark. He was already overwhelmed from getting rescued, Newt would let him have one night of peace before.

∆ 

“He’s going to need extensive work on his vocal chords, as well as to start building muscle mass again, his body is almost beyond hope.” The mediwizard held her hand infront of Graves’ throat, making a translucent blue orb appear over his throat.

“If possible, I’d like to know how he became this way?” She cast her gaze to Picquery.

Newt was shaking, his hands clasped behind him so the others couldn’t see how badly he was fidgeting.

“W-will he be able to speak again?” He asked.

Both Picquery and the mediwizard looked to him, eyes lowering, “You shouldn’t ask that in front of him”, is what both looks said.

Newt gulped down excess saliva, turning away from their eyes only to find himself staring into Graves’. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling so anxious, the desire to make sure Graves was okay appeared. Newt sad upon the medical bed next to Graves, putting a hand upon his shoulder.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked.

Graves gave a small nod of his head, leaning into the touch just enough for Newt to feel it and not enough for the other two in the room to notice. 

∆

Four treatments lasting two hours each, two different professionalists opinions, and a hired counselor Graves had to see every week later and he was “fixed”. But he wasn’t.  
Picquery had paid for everything, she called it compensating for not noticing sooner what was going on right in front of her eyes.

Graves was still with Newt, even after Picquery’s intense insistence that he go back to his own home. She didn’t understand what a nightmare it was for him now. It wasn’t his home, it was where he was caught like an animal.

He was slowly starting to speak again. His throat had a constant pain, so he preferred not to be vocal but he found he couldn’t help himself around the magizoologist. Recently Newt had shown him his case of magical creatures. At first he’d been putoff by it, it broke so many laws but at the same time Newt’s cause was just and he wanted to support him, even if all that meant was waking up early to feed the animals and pet the mooncalves.

They’d gotten to know each other better, talked about their families and friends. It turned out Graves knew Newt’s brother, Theseus. They had a ball telling each other the embarrassing stories they remembered about him.

Yet, ever since the burn incident they’d veered clear of anything doing with soulmates, to Graves surprise, he was almost upset about it. He wanted to discuss it with Newt, explain why he’d responded the way he had before. He wanted to see Newt’s.

∆

“Hey Graves, can you help me carry these to each exhibit?”

“I told you to call me Percival,” Graves said. His voice was scratchy, permanently stuck that way. 

“Fine, Percival get your arse over here!” Newt laughed as Graves face tinged a soft pink that was barely noticeable.

Newt’s pants were rolled up to his knees and his shirt sleeves, to his elbows.

“We’ll head to the mooncalves first because I want to bathe susie. She rolled in mud yesterday, so unfortunate.” Newt sighed, hefting the water bucket into his arms.

Graves watched as water sloshed over the side of the bucket and onto Newt’s hands. Long fingers flexed and Graves felt that he might have a heart attack.

He’d noticed Newt from the beginning when he first saw his mesmerizing eyes. Then as they stayed together Graves started to like his personality, his fidgeting and mumbling followed by an outburst of energy. He really liked Newt’s quirks. And the freckles that were dusted across his cheeks and knuckles, Graves had thought about them a lot to, how he’d kiss each one if he were allowed too. Newt was exactly his type and it was torture to know that he wasn’t his soulmate. If he was, Newt would have surely said something the first time he saw his mark.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Newt yelled, he was good distance ahead of Graves. He stumbled to catch up, grabbing the buckets he’d been told to carry.  
Susie refused to bathe, she dodged Newt each time he reached for her with a soapy cloth and Graves was having a blast. His shoulders were shaking and his chest heaving as he let out short consistent puffs of air. Newt was getting very frustrated, puffing out his cheeks and blowing his hair out his face.

“If you think it’s so funny why don’t you help?” Newt had turned towards him, sleeves rolled and arms thrown up in defeat. Graves could see it.

Newt frowned at his sudden stillness.

“What is it, you like you’ve seen a- oh.” His eyes had followed Graves line of sight and to his soulmate mark on display for anyone to see. He pulled his arm down, suddenly very bashful to have to face this topic.

Realization dawned on Graves, why Newt’s eyes seemed so much more beautiful. He’d seen plenty of people with that shade of blue eyes but never someone with eyes like his. It made sense why he instantly felt at home with him. It made sense why he was so drawn to him.

“Perciv-” Newt managed to get out before he was tackled to the ground and found himself with an armful of Percival Graves.

“Idiot,” Graves rasped.

Soft lips pressed against Newt’s.

“I knew it was you the moment I saw your eyes.”


End file.
